


Aphrodisiac

by CourtingInsanity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Hermione Granger, Community: dramione_duet, Draco saves Hermione, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hermione owes Draco, Lust Potion/Spell, Meddling, PWP without Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 10:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16283099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtingInsanity/pseuds/CourtingInsanity
Summary: After Draco saves Hermione from danger, she finds herself in his debt. His request? That she pretends to date him to repay the favour. For their first date, he takes her to the Manor to meet his mother, but Narcissa Malfoy wasn’t born yesterday. She knows that the relationship between the pair is fake, but she’s also aware that the unresolved sexual tension is almost palpable. Lacing their tea with a potion that will either make them incredibly *attracted* to each other if they are compatible, or kill them instantly if not, seems like an insane risk to take, but the Malfoy matriarch is sure it will pay off; grandchildren don’t grow on trees, you know.Written for Round 10 Dramione Duets, for the wonderful and amazing RZZMG (honestly, I died when I found out she was my partner!)  <3





	Aphrodisiac

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RZZMG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RZZMG/gifts).



> Thank you to my wonderful beta, Mrs Ren, for her never-ending support and guidance when writing smut. And thank you to ningloreth who ran an amazing fest!

“Clear,” said the brunette woman, standing from her position. “Cover me.”

 

“Wait!” Hissed her blond companion, but the woman had already left. The man growled, but he rose gracefully and stepped around the structure, jogging until he caught up with her.

 

She was holding her wand out in front of her, a determined frown etched on her features as she made her way to the long line of trees which separated the flat camping ground from the dense forest.  
“I think he’s -”

 

“Granger!” The man growled. “We need to go back, I -”

 

The woman scoffed. “Oh, Malfoy, don’t be such a –“ Her words were cut off by a whistling sound, followed by a stream of red light, hurtling towards them from the shrubbery.

 

“Get down!” Malfoy lunged forward, landing on top of the woman and rolling her out of harm’s way.

 

“I don’t need your help,” she mumbled, her face pressed into the dry earth.

 

He sneered, but did not reply as he glanced back towards the location of the attack. Granger copied his movements, just in time to see a cloaked figure emerge from the greenery.

 

“He’s alone,” Malfoy rumbled, getting to his feet and holding his own wand in front of him.

 

“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes and assumed the same stance.

 

“Evening, Aurors.” The figure stopped in front of them, apparently unarmed.

 

“Dogsworth,” Malfoy greeted, his tone poisonous. “Are you going to come quietly this time?”

 

The man chuckled and brought his hands up in a signal of surrender. Malfoy lunged forward to take one of his wrists, but Dogsworth was too quick. He stepped to the side, his long, thin fingers latching on to Hermione’s wand arm and tugging it up into the air. His other hand grabbed for her throat and twirled her so that her back was pressed against his front. The hand around her neck tightened and Hermione’s vision blurred.

 

She tried to lift a foot to stamp on the assailant’s foot but found that she was unable to even wiggle her toes.

 

“Malfoy,” she gasped. “I can’t move!”

 

“Let her go,” Draco growled, his wand pointed over Hermione’s shoulder, the tip directed at the man’s face.

 

“Make me, lover boy.”

 

While being associated with Granger romantically had never really bothered the blond, he didn’t want her to know that. He sneered at Dogsworth and slightly lowered his wand.

 

“You disgust me.” Well, it was true; the acts this oxygen thief had committed in the past few months were vile. Draco saw Hermione flinch, but he kept his eyes trained on Dogsworth.

 

“You won’t mind if I take her, then?” The man nodded towards Hermione, who whimpered as he tightened his hold around her throat; her lips were becoming numb.

 

Draco smiled, a relaxed expression crossing his face. He shook his head from side to side slowly, like one of those clowns in sideshow alley.

 

Through her tunnel vision, Hermione watched Draco speed up as if someone had hit fast forward on a remote. In less than a second, his wand was raised once more, pointed over Hermione’s shoulder.

 

His lips did not move as a jet of bright red sparks flew from Draco’s wand and missed Hermione’s neck by inches. There was an irate cry from behind her and suddenly she could move again. She pivoted quickly, aiming her wand at the stunned Dogsworth and used it to bind his wrists and ankles with thick rope.

 

She turned to Malfoy to ask for help lifting the now stiff form of their bad guy, but he was watching the ground which stretched between them. Gold dust-like particles were floating up from the grass, winding its way around them, bathing them in its sunny glow.

 

“What the -?” Hermione stared, her jaw slack. She trained her gaze on Malfoy, but he was now moving towards Dogsworth.

 

“Come on,” he said without looking at her. “Help me with this Portkey.”

 

Silently, Hermione did as she was asked. She pulled a broken pen from her pocket and tapped it with her wand. Laying it in the stiff hand of Dogsworth, she rose and stepped back.

 

“Three, two, one,” she counted.

 

On ‘one’ the pen glowed an electric blue before it and Dogsworth disappeared with a faint pop! The Portkey would take him directly to a holding cell in the Ministry, where he would await trial for a string of attacks on young women.

 

Without a word, Malfoy nodded at Hermione and then strode off back towards the toilet blocks from which they had started. She followed slowly, entering the cubicle behind him, and then flushing herself back into the Ministry.

* * *

 

 

The department was dark and silent; the other Aurors and office staff had gone home hours ago, but a pile of paperwork was sitting on both of their desks.

 

“Let’s get this over with,” Malfoy muttered, moving towards his chair.

 

Hermione remained in the doorway of his office, her gaze flickering from the floor to the blond, whose head was bowed over several sheets of parchment. Her fingers knotted together as she stepped further into the room, and she cleared her throat.

 

She was desperate to ask him about the golden light that had appeared when he saved her from Dogsworth, but it seemed that he actually knew what it meant; either that, or he was entirely ignorant.

 

“Did you notice that light, when you stunned Dogsworth?”

 

Malfoy did not glance up. “Of course,” he said. “Why?”

 

“Well, aren’t you curious…” she trailed off as he lifted his gaze to hers; she instantly spotted the glint of mirth

 

“About what?”

 

“Nothing,” she said quickly - too quickly.

 

“You do know what this means, don’t you, Granger?” He smirked, thoroughly enjoying the way she squirmed under his intense stare.

 

“Of course I do,” she answered hotly.

 

“Okay,” he drew out the last syllable, his smirk widening. “Tell me.”

 

Hermione exhaled forcefully through her nose. “Fine, I don’t know!” She snapped. “What does it mean?”

 

“It means -” he arched an eyebrow “- that you owe me.”

 

“Really?” she rolled her eyes. “And what is it that I owe you, Malfoy?”

 

“A favour.” He rose from his desk and moved slowly, coming to a stop just in front of her.

 

She scoffed. “Sure. I’ll owe you one.”

 

As Hermione turned to leave, Malfoy gripped her forearm. “I don’t think you understand.”

 

“Oh, but I do.” She nodded enthusiastically, a fake grin on her face. “Next time you want me to do something for you, I’ll just...do it,” she snapped her fingers for emphasis.

 

“You won’t have a choice,” Malfoy growled. “I saved your life; that entitles me to one favour - whenever, and whatever I choose.” At Hermione’s frown, he elaborated. “It’s a magically bound promise.”

 

Hermione’s jaw slackened. “I’m sorry?”

 

“In the Wizarding World, when you save someone’s life, they are automatically bound to grant you a favour of your choosing,” Draco explained, the corners of his mouth twitching.

 

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Hermione frowned, her eyes guarded as they bored into Draco’s. “What about the war, though? I must have saved Harry and Ron a thousand times!”

 

“Indeed.” Draco inclined his head. “And I’d be willing to wager that those two morons would have been completely oblivious to such lore. How many times did they ask you for homework help, to which you said yes, even though you perhaps wanted to say no? Of course, by the time war broke out, I doubt your magic could keep up with the tally of who owed who a favour; you would have equalled each other out in battle.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips together, trying to process the information he was giving her. Of course, Harry and Ron had asked for help quite frequently while they were at school, and she had found herself agreeing a few times despite intending to say no.

 

“So -” she squinted and tilted her head to the side “- I owe you a favour?”

 

“Yes.” He nodded, a triumphant smirk gracing his features. “I’ll let you know when I want your help, Granger, and you’ll agree - no matter what I ask of you.”

 

With a scowl, Hermione turned on her heel and marched from his office. Instead of continuing down the hall to where her own pile of paperwork was waiting for her, she turned towards the elevators and left the empty Ministry.

 

When in doubt, she thought to herself as she hurried towards the grates in the Atrium, go to the library.

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Hermione arrived at work looking decidedly worse for wear. Her robes were askew, her hair had not met a brush before she’d left home, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. 

 

As she entered the corridor of the Auror offices, she kept her head down lest Malfoy spot her; she may have only found articles which confirmed his claim while at the library last night, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t avoid him for as long as possible; maybe he would forget about the favour, and accidentally use it to ask her to cover a shift at Azkaban or something.

 

She allowed herself a brief glance to her left as she came to the door of Malfoy’s office; it was closed. Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione bent her head and charged forward...only to have a strong arm reach out and grab her, tugging her through a wooden doorway. Her training kicked in before her brain, and she quickly found herself braced against the closed door, her wand pointed at the chest of her attacker.

 

“Nice reaction.” Malfoy smirked. “But still not quick enough; had I been an actual threat, you would have found yourself a helpless hostage...again. You need to think with your head,” he tapped his temple as he stepped away from her, “not your gut.”

 

Hermione wanted to argue. She had fared quite well, thank you very much, using her gut...and occasionally, her head. But this was not the time to debate the merit of which organ to use for best results in the field.

 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked, lowering her wand and stowing it in the pocket of her trousers.

 

“I want to call in my favour.” He grinned, showing two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth.

 

_My parents would love his mouth,_ Hermione thought. _Wait...what?_

 

“Earth to Granger?” Malfoy snapped his fingers repeatedly until Hermione shook her head and blinked up at him.

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

“My favour,” Draco enunciated. “You know, I saved your life…?”

 

“I remember,” she shot back. “I’m just surprised.” She shifted her weight to her other foot. “I thought you’d drag this out and make it as uncomfortable as possible for me.”

 

“That was my original plan.” Draco nodded. His tone suggested complete apathy in regard to the whole situation, and the hairs at the back of Hermione’s neck prickled with anger. “But this...issue...has come up quite suddenly, and I’d rather not waste an opportunity to have you at my beck and call on a simple mistake like asking you to cover a shift or complete paperwork.”

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “So, what is it you want, Malfoy?”

 

“I need you to date me.”

 

“Date you?”

 

“Yes, Granger,” he said slowly, as if she were an invalid and he an impatient parent, “date me.”

 

“I will not.”

 

Draco tutted. “Come now. That’s no way to react to the man who saved you from certain death; it’s just a short-term thing anyway. Like I’d want to be tied to you any longer than strictly necessary.”

 

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to save me!” she spat.

 

Draco moved from the slouched position against his desk, his steps slow but meaningful as he made his way towards her. Hermione did not break eye contact, his icy grey glare threatening and oddly mesmerising.

 

“If I’d have had time to think,” he said softly, coming to a stop less than a foot away from her, “I would have. As it stands, you decided to get yourself into a position in which you needed saving, and I happened to provide my assistance. You’re welcome, by the way.”

 

Hermione glared at him, fire crackling in her eyes. “I won’t do it; pick something else.”

 

“You don’t want me to do that,” he promised, his tone menacing and his eyes alight with something akin to hunger.

 

Hermione gulped but stood her ground. “I’d rather that than pretend to be your girlfriend.”

 

“You wound me,” he deadpanned. “I won’t pretend that I haven’t thought about punishing you in a way that would undoubtedly arouse me, but I’m not a rapist, Granger.” His eyes flashed in anger, but within a blink they were back to blank concrete slates. “Please -” his mouth twisted around the word as if it physically hurt him to speak it “- will you pretend to be my girlfriend for the foreseeable future, until such time as I call it off?”

 

Hermione wanted to say no. She wanted to tell him he could stick his stupid ancient magic where the sun doesn’t shine, turn on her heel, and storm from his office with all the dignity she could muster. But her dignity had left her, somewhere at the campsite where her pride had fallen at the hands of Draco Malfoy; her sodding saviour.

 

“Yes,” she whispered through trembling lips.

 

He smirked, dipping his head lower so she could see his expression better. Her eyes watered, but she would not let him see her cry. She bit down hard, squashing her back molars together before she tilted her chin up, spun towards the door, and marched from the room.

 

His mirthless chuckle followed her down the hallway and into her own office. She leant against the door as she shut it, squeezing her eyes tight.

 

_There’s no use crying about it_ , she chided herself as a burning sensation flared behind her eyelids. _Just ignore him until he calls in the first order of Girlfriend duties._

 

With a sort-of-plan in place, Hermione felt the desire to smash something recede somewhat, and she cautiously opened her eyes. She was right, of course; crying would solve nothing. It would be better to simply carry on as normal, and when Malfoy sought her out again, she would ask for full details of his plan, so that she could mark the day on her calendar of when she would be rid of him.

* * *

 

 

“Tell you my plan?” Draco scoffed, lowering his glass. “Do you take me for a fool?”

 

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that yes, she did think he was a fool - and a lot of other things, too. But she didn’t get a chance to list them.

 

“Don’t answer that,” he muttered, bringing the drink to his lips again. “You’re to meet me at seven o’clock at the apparition point near your house. Do not be late.”

 

“You can’t just bark orders at me, Malfoy,” Hermione huffed. “If you want people to actually believe your stupid plan, you’re going to have to be nicer to me.”

 

Draco sneered. “You’re bound by magic, witch. I don’t have to be nice at all; you’ll still do as I ask.”

 

“I’m aware of that, idiot.” She rolled her eyes and she revelled in the way his jaw clenched in obvious annoyance. “But if you want other people -” she gestured around them “- to believe you deigned to lower yourself to dating me -” she gestured to herself “- then you’re going to have to use basic courtesies…like manners.”

 

Draco grumbled, but conceded that she may have a point. “Fine,” he spat. “Granger, please meet me at seven o’clock at the apparition point near your house. Do not be late.”

 

“We’ll work on that.” Hermione shrugged and slid from the stool. “See you at five past seven, Malfoy!” She called over her shoulder.

 

“Very funny,” he called after her.

* * *

 

 

At seven o'clock on the dot, Hermione arrived at the apparition point near her house. Draco was there, dressed in casual Muggle jeans and a green polo shirt. Hermione couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked out of Auror robes.

 

_He looks pretty good in the robes, too…_

 

She cut off the train of thought before it could fully form.

 

“Malfoy,” she greeted.

 

“Granger.” He nodded. “Shall we?”

 

Obediently, she took his proffered arm. “And just where are you taking me?”

 

“To meet my mother.”

 

Hermione’s mouth fell open, but before she could question him, Draco had turned them on the spot and apparated them away.

 

When the suffocating feeling of being squeezed through a toothpaste tube ended, Hermione landed gracelessly on white gravel rocks. Draco let go of her as soon as they arrived, leaving her to flail around to find her balance on her own.

 

“Your mother?” Hermione hissed as he began to walk away from her, towards the large wrought iron gates, behind which stood Malfoy Manor.

 

“Yes, Granger.” He shrugged, but did not slow his gait. Hermione trotted behind him, contemplating the merit of hexing him before they reached the front door.

 

As she opened her mouth to unleash a rant the likes of which he had never experienced before, Hermione arrived behind the bane of her existence just as the door swung open to reveal Narcissa Malfoy.

 

“Hello, Mother,” Draco greeted the tall, blonde woman.

 

“Draco.” She wrapped her arms around her son before turning her attention to Hermione. “Good evening, Miss Granger.”

 

Narcissa’s smile was warm and Hermione immediately felt on edge. She had braced herself for cold glares and haughty sighs, but Narcissa positively bubbled with excitement.

 

“Come through -” the matriarch waved an elegant hand “- I’ve asked the elves to prepare tea in the courtyard.”

 

Draco took Hermione’s elbow; her first instinct was to wrench her arm from his grasp, but he sent her a warning glare and she settled before they fell into step behind Narcissa.

 

“So -” The older witch smiled as they took their seats around a small white table in the courtyard “- tell me how you two met.”

 

Hermione picked up her teacup and drank heavily from it, assuming that Malfoy would have a narrative already woven for this line of questioning. The liquid burned her throat slightly, but her choking had nothing to do with temperature, and everything to do with the response from the blond prat.

 

“We met at work,” Draco answered, shooting a meaningful look at Hermione. “I saved her from an attack, and we’ve been dating since.”

 

Hermione bristled, wiping her chin as the coughing subsided. How dare he spout such lies? As if she would ever fall for him because he saved her.

 

“Draco,” she offered him a tight smile as she set her teacup back on to its saucer. “Can I speak to you...in private?”

 

He was busy with his own tea now, but Hermione didn’t miss the way his shoulders tightened at her words. To buy himself some time, he took another long sip, before turning towards her with a look of feigned concern.

 

“Of course, darling.” He smiled apologetically at Narcissa as they excused themselves, but she only smirked over the rim of her own teacup in response.

 

“What is it?” he hissed as soon as they were in the hall, out of earshot of his mother.

 

“Saving me?” she hissed back. “Really?”

 

“Well it did happen.”

 

“I know that this -” she gestured between them “- isn’t real, but I’d appreciate it if…” she trailed off, her eyes widening as she looked at him.

 

“Granger?” he asked. “What’s…” But it had hit him too; his mouth was instantly dry, his palms clammy. Heat swelled from beneath his collar and radiated upwards, coating his cheeks in a soft tinge of pink.

 

He couldn’t help but notice the way her breath was leaving her in shallow bursts, causing her chest to heave delectably against the thin material of her blouse. The skin he could see, exposed by the top two buttons she had left undone was flushed the same colour as his face, and he had the sudden urge to run his fingers over it.

 

“Fireplace. Now,” he demanded.

 

She didn’t need telling twice. Quite forgetting where they were and what they were meant to be doing, they hurried towards the grate. Draco reached the Floo powder first, grabbed a handful, and threw it into the flames. Together, they stepped forward and disappeared.

 

Hermione felt every point of contact keenly as they spun through the maze of chimneys. His arm against hers, his hand as it brushed her waist; at one point he growled low in his chest as their thighs touched and Hermione swore she was going to explode in a foreign grate.

 

It was the longest Floo ride of her entire life, if such a thing were possible. When they finally landed back at her apartment, they stepped out into her living room, chests heaving as they faced off.

 

“What did you do?” Draco growled.

 

“Me?” Hermione squeaked. “I haven’t done anything!”

 

“Why do I want to…?” Draco bit down on his lower lip to stop himself finishing that sentence, but understanding settled in Hermione’s eyes.

 

“I don’t know,” she said. “But you can be certain it wasn’t me, Malfoy.”

 

She crossed her arms over her chest, and Draco’s gaze was forced downwards. He gritted his teeth and mirrored her stance, not trusting himself to keep his hands by his sides.

 

“This is payback, isn’t it?” He sneered. “You wanted to get me back for the favour.”

 

“I’m not an idiot,” she replied hotly. “I’ve done enough research to know it’s not possible to undo a favour once it is asked.”

 

“So, you thought you’d punish me instead?”

 

“Punish you?” She choked. “Merlin you are the most narcissistic arsehole I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet! May I remind you that it was you who asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend! You want to talk about punishment let’s start there!”

 

Her eyes flashed with unbridled anger and Draco felt his pants tighten around his groin area. How he longed to close the gap between them and show her the real meaning of punishment.

 

“If anything, I was punishing myself,” he retorted. “Having to put up with your shite outside of the office is like a whole new level of hell.”

 

“Likewise!”

 

There was a moment of complete silence between them. Hermione felt like she might explode from the way Draco was looking at her like he wanted nothing more than to devour her right here on the rug. She watched his arms relax and fall to his side, and he took three steps forward as if he was unable to stop himself.

 

Her mind screamed at her to move, but her legs ignored the message. Her own arms fell from their vice-like position over her chest and her fingers itched to reach for him, wondering what his pale blond locks would feel like sliding between them. Her breath hitched audibly, and the sound seemed to snap Draco out of his trance. He paused, less than a foot away from her. She swallowed thickly as want pooled between her legs.

 

“What,” he hissed, “have you done to me?”

 

“N-nothing,” she whimpered. Having him so close was testing her willpower and she was not used to such a sensation.

 

“Granger,” he growled a warning. “I need to leave.”

 

She nodded once, watching as a hundred emotions fought for dominance in his eyes. The seconds passed like hours as he remained frozen, clearly wanting to leave, but unable to do so.

 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “I know you’ve done something! I’ve never wanted to...I mean, I would never…” He waved half-heartedly in her direction and Hermione felt her chest constrict with an unfamiliar feeling.

 

“I haven’t done anything,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m your partner, Malfoy; I wouldn’t lie to you.”

 

Draco snorted. “Really?”

 

“Yes.” She swallowed thickly, balling her hands into fists to stop them from reaching towards him...how she longed to run her fingertips over the ridges of his stomach... _get a grip!_ “You trust me, don’t you?”

 

“No. You’ll have to forgive me for not being one of your bleeding-heart Gryffindor boy toys,” he shot back with a scathing glare.

 

Hermione tried and failed to hide the hitch in her breathing that signified that he’d hit a nerve. She narrowed her eyes at him and took two steps forward, skirting around him, back towards the fireplace.

 

“Draco Malfoy,” she enunciated. “You are the most narcissistic, ignorant, and downright undeserving person I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I’m done.” With that, she grabbed the pot of Floo powder from the mantle and thrust it into his hands.

 

“Isn’t it my turn now?” He sneered, pointedly placing the pot back down; her eyes widened. “You, Granger, are the most highly-strung, arrogant, and fucking painful person I have ever met. I don’t want your friendship, or your loyalty, and if I could have it my way, I wouldn’t have a partner at all!”

 

He had moved as he spoke until he was once again within arm’s reach. Instead of cowering, as many others would have, Hermione continued to glare at him defiantly. Her chest was heaving, her breath leaving her in small bursts. Draco watched, entranced, as she took another half a step forward, his gaze roaming from her burning chocolate irises to her flushed neck, to her barely-there cleavage.

 

“Fine,” she ground out softly. “I’ll go and see Kingsley in the morning; I want a new partner, and you can go out in the field alone for all I care. Now, I think you should leave.”

 

This time, Hermione did not hand him the Floo pot, but turned on her heel to storm down the hallway. Traitorous tears were prickling at the corners of her eyes, and she was damned if she was going to let Draco sodding Malfoy see that he had upset her.

 

A pressure at her right elbow stopped her midway through the second step and turned her back around until she stumbled into the front of Malfoy’s shirt.

 

“Granger,” he half-groaned, half-whispered.

 

“What?” She snapped, those tears now pooling in her eyes and clinging to her lashes. “Did you forget something? I’m too bossy, a know-it-all, a swot, too opinionated, too ugly, or -”

 

At that, Hermione felt the wall of her living room meet her spine, and she briefly wondered how she had missed the fact that she had been walking backwards for the entirety of her babbling.

 

“You’re not ugly.” Draco had placed one hand next to her head, on the wall; the other came to rest on her hip, his fingertips gently kneading through her clothes.

 

“M-Malfoy?” She bit down on her lower lip as she met his gaze.

 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop, Granger,” he panted, his breath wafting over her face in warm puffs. “But if you don’t want me to...I’ll try.”

 

A whiff of his expensive cologne entered her nostrils. There was something decidedly masculine and Malfoy about the scent, and though she had been inhaling it for years as his partner in the Auror office, it had never affected her like this before. Hermione shook her head, the inside of it feeling like her brain had been filled with cotton wool.

 

Hermione’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth, but she forced it to articulate the last coherent thought left within her mind.

 

“I-I want -” she choked, “I mean...yes; please.”

 

There was a pause which perhaps lasted for a second, though it felt a lot longer for both Draco and Hermione. They stared at each other, eyebrows raised, lips parted, and hearts racing, until Draco snapped into action, closing the gap and tangling his hands in her hair, tugging her head back, allowing him to claim her lips.

 

They moaned simultaneously as his tongue entered her mouth, her hands moving up over his abdomen to fist in his shirt.

 

He spun her around and walked her backwards until her legs hit her couch; she fell backwards, Draco positioning himself on top of her. It was a mark of his training that he did not crush her. Their mouths continued to move against each other in a heated mess of teeth and tongues.

 

Draco thrust his hips forward, eliciting a moan from the brunette witch beneath him. He responded with a growl and pulled back, wandlessly vanishing her shirt and brassiere.

 

He bent his head and began to place hot, open mouth kisses down the column of her neck. When he reached the mound of her right breast, he swirled his tongue around the flesh, working his way towards the centre, teasing. She arched up into him when his mouth finally closed around the sensitive nipple. He hummed happily, sending shock waves throughout Hermione’s chest. Her fingers threaded their way through his hair and she relished in the feel of the silky strands.

 

A small voice awoke in the back of her mind as Draco moved his mouth back to hers, his tongue entering immediately to battle with her own. What the hell is happening? It said. This is Malfoy, and you were just arguing with him about…

 

She yelped, the thought vanishing instantaneously as Malfoy’s teeth sank teasingly into her lower lip. He smirked against her mouth and rolled his hips experimentally again. Hermione hissed through her teeth as an electrical current ran up her spine at the contact. He repeated the motion, and this time Hermione lifted her pelvis to meet his thrust, earning a moan from the blond.

 

“Witch,” he growled.

 

Hermione’s chuckle quickly turned into an appreciative groan as Draco leaned back to divest himself of his shirt, his abdominal muscles rippling like lazy waves on the ocean. Her hands reached for him instinctively, fingertips admiring the ridges over his stomach before trailing down over the waistband of his jeans.

 

“Oh, no.” He took both of her wrists in one of his hands and lifted them over her head. She squealed, but did not fight him. “There’ll be none of that, Granger; I’m in control today.”

 

His accompanying grin was full of dark promises and Hermione shivered in anticipation. She bit down on her tongue, unwilling to let slip the moan that threatened in her throat. How she longed to beg him to take her, right here, right now...but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how long it had been since she had been touched by a man.

 

His mouth returned to her chest while he kept her hands pinned above her head. Though she tried, Hermione found it impossible to lie still, and her hips continued to buck against him as he teased her breasts with his tongue. He chuckled against her flushed skin and glanced up with molten-silver eyes.

 

“Eager, are we?”

 

“Maybe,” she panted. His smirk widened.

 

“What do you want, Granger?” Hermione squirmed beneath him, inadvertently brushing her thigh across the hard length bulging against the front of his jeans. He growled into her ear. “Tell me,” he warned, “or I’m going to rip your clothes off right now, throw your legs over my shoulders and fuck you into the couch.”

 

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks blazing with heat at the promise he was making. “That, please,” she whimpered. “Exactly that.”

 

Draco chuckled darkly before sitting back on his haunches, using his grip on her wrists to tug Hermione into a semi-sitting position. He wrapped both arms around her shoulders to hold her against him before angling her head so he could kiss her deeply.

 

He allowed himself a moan, which she swallowed greedily, as Hermione’s breasts brushed the front of his chest. His hand moved from where it had tangled in her hair, to cup the soft mound, and Draco relished in the shudder that ran through Hermione at his touch.

 

“Fuck!” She broke the kiss suddenly and threw her head back as he pinched and rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. He smirked and dipped his head to latch on to her exposed neck, earning himself a guttural moan.

 

With his free hand, Draco quickly undid his jeans, biting his lip to stop a groan escaping as his cock sprang free of its confines. Wandlessly, he vanished the restrictive garment so as not to interrupt the exquisite torture he was currently subjecting Hermione’s left breast to, before he set to work on her pencil skirt.

 

He intended to bunch the soft material up her legs, but found that the way her legs had settled beneath him made the movement impossible. He growled, alerting the brunette witch to his frustration; Hermione glanced between them, her eyes widening at the length of him. Her hands moved at lightning speed, her right wrapping firmly around him before he had time to stop her.

 

He hissed in pleasure through his teeth, grinding them together. “Merlin fucking damn it,” he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as Hermione began to pump her hand; slowly, teasing him.

 

She allowed herself a sly smile as his fingers stilled at her breast, allowing her to completely focus on him. Experimentally, she squeezed her palm on the upstroke, tugging slightly as she reached the head of his cock.

 

Draco let out a string of incoherent expletives before forcing his head upright and reaching once more for Granger’s offending skirt. He hooked two hands into the waistband and pulled; the material ripped easily between his fingers and Hermione’s movements stopped instantly, her jaw slackening into an expression of shock and desire.

 

_Who is this man?_

 

Draco continued to rip the skirt until the material fell away from Hermione’s hips, leaving her completely exposed save for her knickers; a pale blue lacy pair. He would be lying if he thought that she would be wearing anything other than plain old white cotton, but Draco wasn’t complaining.

 

“You could have just vanished it.” Hermione’s voice snapped Draco back into the present, and he grinned sheepishly at her.

 

“I didn’t mean to rip it,” he said in a seductive voice.

 

“It was pretty hot, though,” she whispered, her exasperation instantly evaporating.

 

He chuckled. “Not as hot as what I plan to do next,” he said darkly, offering her a wink.

 

Before Hermione could respond, his mouth was on hers again, his left hand wrapped around her neck to hold her in place. His right hand snaked down her sternum, over the soft skin of her stomach, before plunging without warning into her knickers. He moaned and intensified the movements of his tongue as he found her opening, slick and wet; totally ready for him.

 

Hermione mewled, a sound which was swallowed by Draco’s fierce kiss, and she arched into his palm. Her hands clung to his shoulders, and she briefly wondered if her nails would leave crescent-shaped scars in his skin, the way she pressed into him; she hoped they would.

 

As he entered one finger, and then two, Draco wondered why he hadn’t attempted this sooner; his mind was a haze of Hermione - wild hair, floral scents, and delectable moans. She began to match his movements, her hips rolling with abandon as she practically bounced on his hand.

 

Her walls began to flutter around his digits, and Draco began to slow his movements; he wasn’t going to let her find release like this, oh no - he was going to make her work for it. With a final, slow thrust, Draco withdrew his fingers, brushing them up and over her clit as he pulled them from her knickers.

 

She whined at the loss, her chest heaving with the exertion of having been brought to the edge, only to be unfairly denied release.

 

“Please,” she moaned against his lips, attempting to capture his mouth in another kiss as he pulled away.

 

He chuckled. “Soon,” he promised.

 

Once more, he used a wandless spell to vanish her knickers. Hermione moaned at the feeling of finally being entirely exposed, her hips rolling in an attempt to find some friction.

 

“I’ll ask you again, Granger; what do you want?”

 

“I want you -” She lifted her head slightly to meet his gaze. He should not have been shocked at the burning desire within her chocolate orbs, but his breath hitched at the intensity with which she looked at him. “I want you to fuck me into this couch until there is an imprint the size of my body in the cushions.”

 

_Merlin, she is just about perfect_ , was his last coherent thought before he lunged forward, pinning Hermione once more beneath him. She squealed in delight, a sound he quickly smothered by slanting his mouth over hers.

 

Hermione felt like she might burst as Draco began to rock his hips, the tip of his cock sliding over her wet folds. Her breath left her in short bursts, and she tried to form words to beg him, bribe him - even blackmail him - into giving her what she desperately wanted. Just as she feared she might start sobbing with need, Draco suddenly pulled back, threw her legs up over his shoulders, and slammed forward, sheathing himself inside of her.

 

“Fuck!” she cried out, as he hissed gratefully through his teeth.

 

For a moment, he remained frozen, his eyes squeezed shut as they both adjusted to the new and entirely welcome sensation of being completely joined.

 

“You feel incredible,” he growled into her ear as he regained equilibrium. He had fucked many witches, but he had never enjoyed himself as much as he was now. For the first time since he was a teenager, Draco feared he may not live up to the title of Slytherin Sex God, and was therefore determined to make this his best performance yet.

 

Hermione only moaned in response, tangling her hands into the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging on them in the hopes of stirring him into action; it worked. With a low groan, Draco began to move, sliding almost all the way out of her before thrusting quickly back in.

 

Her grip on his hair loosened slightly as he established a furious rhythm. She had never been incredibly vocal during sex, but Draco seemed to know where all her buttons lay, and was especially adept at pushing them.

 

Within thirty seconds, she could feel the pressure in her abdomen increase significantly, and her chest was basically hollow with the exertion of breathing. Draco watched, teeth clenched, as her eyelids fluttered in time with her core around his cock. Hermione’s hands slid from around his shoulders, one falling to tangle in her own hair, and the other finding and pinching her nipple.

 

For a second, Draco was mesmerised; he had never imagined that Hermione Granger would be so brazen as to touch herself during sex. Most women just lay there and allowed him to do whatever he wanted to them. He was so lost in her, that he almost forgot that he was edging her.

 

He stopped suddenly on the next thrust, unsheathing from her completely. Her eyes flew open, the brown orbs glaring at a smirking Draco. He wrapped his hands around her ankles and dismounted them from his shoulders. In one fluid movement, he reached forward and tugged at her arms, forcing her into a sitting position, before lifting her effortlessly into his lap.

 

He watched her face as she sank on to him, her mouth in the shape of a perfect ‘o’, and her eyes squeezed shut.

 

_Merlin, she’s beautiful. How have I not noticed until now?_

 

Hermione began bouncing an incredible rhythm as soon as he was buried inside her again, and Draco had to grip her hips before she led them both to a premature end.

 

“Slow down, sweetheart,” he cooed into her ear. “We’ve got all night.”

 

She growled at that, rolling her hips so she could maintain friction while leaning back to look him in the eyes. “Good,” she panted. “I want to go again after this.” She threw her head back as she increased her pace. “And again, and again, and - oh!”

 

Draco grinned as the wide pad of his thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves at Hermione’s centre. He applied pressure before moving it in quick circles, causing the witch straddling him to mewl in delight.

 

“Come for me,” he whispered into her ear.

 

It was a spectacular sight; he continued to work her clit while watching her fall apart around him. Her head was thrown back, her mouth wide open and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. A low, keening moan fell from her lips in one long note, and her hips gyrated faster than he had ever seen a woman move as she writhed in his lap, shuddering and shaking until she finally collapsed, exhaling forcefully against his shoulder.

 

“That was amazing,” she panted, her arms coming to rest lazily over his shoulders.

 

He smirked. “I’m not done with you yet.”

 

Once again, he moved them, this time rolling gracefully to the floor, ensuring Hermione did not fall as he did so. Gently, he withdrew from her again, earning a hiss at the sudden loss of contact.

 

“Get on all fours for me,” he purred, his gaze intense.

 

Hermione’s eyes widened briefly before she hurried to do as she was told.

 

“Have you ever been spanked before, Granger?” He asked as she shimmied into position.

 

“N-no,” she squeaked. Her arms and legs were still shuddering from the force of her orgasm and Draco couldn’t help the flare of pride in his chest as he basked in the glory of giving it to her.

 

“Would you like to try it?” His voice was low and gravelly as he moved closer behind her, the tip of his cock brushing teasingly against her opening as he ran a flat palm over the spans of one arse cheek.

 

“Yes,” she whispered, fear and curiosity in her tone.

 

“Perfect,” he moaned, running his hand over the skin once more. He raised it quickly, bringing it back to slap against the pale cheek, turning the skin a delicious shade of pink.

 

Hermione made a noise that started as a squeal and ended in a moan. “Again,” she panted. “Please.”

 

Draco obliged, this time placing his open palm on the other cheek. This time, Hermione groaned appreciatively and arched her back, pushing her arse towards Draco. He chuckled.

 

Gripping her hips, he positioned himself and thrust forward, losing himself in the incredible warmth of Hermione once more. She yelped at the sudden intrusion and collapsed on to her elbows.

 

He reached forward and grasped a large section of her hair; the curly mess was begging to be tugged and used as an instrument to keep her upright while he fucked her.

 

“Is this okay?” he asked as he began to pull her hair backwards.

 

“Y-yes,” she moaned, shakily getting back on to her hands.

 

“Good girl,” he moaned as he increased the force of his grip and began to move within her.

 

“Oh, Merlin,” she panted. “Yes, Draco, please!”

 

The sound of his first name on her lips, in that context, snapped something within him and he began to slam into her with reckless abandon. She squealed in delight when he spanked her again, his other hand still tangled tightly in her hair.

 

His cock twitched dangerously as he continued to move at an increased speed, the length feeling as though it was growing inside of her, pleasure fogging his mind to the point of blurring his vision; he knew he was close, but he wanted to give Hermione one more orgasm before he allowed himself the same satisfaction.

 

“I want you to come again for me, Princess,” he growled.

 

“Yes,” she hissed through her teeth. “Fuck, I’m going to –!”

 

Her sentence ended on a high-pitched moan, as her walls clamped down around his cock. It was all Draco could do to continue pumping into her as she rolled her hips back toward him, gripping him internally.

 

As she came down, she slumped forward, but Draco held her upright by her hair. “My turn,” he hissed, pumping three more times before stilling, groaning as he found his own release.

 

Draco collapsed forwards, to the side of Hermione, unsheathing himself with a soft moan as he fell. Panting, he caught the brunette witch before her shuddering limbs could give way, pulling her against him, chest to chest.

 

Her lids were hooded, a fresh glow of pink dusting her cheeks, and a small smile tugged at her lips. He mimicked her expression as he brought his lips gently to hers, capturing them in a soft, but passionate kiss.

 

“That was -” Hermione began.

 

“Incredible,” Draco finished. “I know.”

 

“You’re such an arse.” She swatted his chest with an open palm, but there was no malice in her words or her action.

 

“I believe you told me that,” Draco said nonchalantly, settling Hermione in his arms so that she was laying across his chest. He began to trace soft patterns on her back. “In fact, I believe it was that exact argument which led to the amazing activity we just completed.”

 

Hermione wanted to respond with something scathing and witty, but found that her tongue was too heavy to formulate words. Instead, she hummed in half-hearted dissent and allowed her eyes to flutter closed.

 

You should be running, her conscience seethed, the niggling voice once more at the forefront now that the fun was over. You just slept with Malfoy for Merlin’s sake - why are you still naked on his chest?

 

The fact was, Hermione realised with a start, that she didn’t actually care at all. In fact, a dull throbbing had begun between her legs, and she rather felt that she might like round two...well, soon, that is; she figured Draco would need to recover first.

 

“Granger?” His whisper brought her out of her musings, and she turned her head slightly so that she could read his expression.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I-I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “for what I said earlier; I didn’t mean it.”

 

“So, I am ugly?” She teased.

 

“Ha ha.” He frowned. “I’m trying to be nice here.”

 

“How painful it must be for you.” She poked him in the ribs and he caught her hand in his.

 

“Seriously,” he said, “I shouldn’t have said any of it; I was just…”

 

Hermione raised her head so she could see him better, meeting his gaze as he lay staring up at the ceiling. “Just what?”

 

“I don’t like to rely on people,” he said quietly, the words falling from his lips like rain. “I’ve never really been able to rely on anyone since the war,” he swallowed thickly, “until I was partnered with you, that is. I was...scared,” he finished, somewhat lamely.

 

Hermione was silent for a moment, blinking down at him as if seeing him properly for the first time.

 

“Well,” she said, “since we’re doing apologies, I think I owe you one for what I said as well. I was hurt that you felt like you couldn’t trust me. I’ve tried so hard to build... something...with you…”

 

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I did everything in my power to push you away. You don’t need to apologise at all; I’m the one who should be sorry for not accepting your loyalty sooner.”

 

“Well,” she said, moving to straddle his waist. “I can think of a way you can make it up to me.” She grinned wickedly as she rotated her hips.

 

“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow as he began to match her rhythm.

 

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Whatever your mother put in that tea hasn’t worn off just yet…”

 

Her squeal quickly dissolved into giggles as he shifted them abruptly, settling her beneath him once more.

  
  


 


End file.
